


Stars and Stripes Don't Promise Freedom

by HouseOfTheWest



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:11:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseOfTheWest/pseuds/HouseOfTheWest
Summary: For one painful, frozen second, Steve didn't understand.But then Bucky slipped his hand into his gaping pants and wrapped it around something that was definitely not another knife yet still a weapon and Steve, for the first time that night, struggled seriously to get away, panic erupting through his mind in desperate waves, and he tried to throw himself away from Bucky.





	Stars and Stripes Don't Promise Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by a piece of fan art, and I will post the link to it once I find the link. Please enjoy and leave your opinions! :)

“I'm with you 'til the end of the line, Bucky,” Steve said brokenly, voice rough with the pain of his injuries as he stared up at the face that was so foreign yet still so familiar.

The Winter Soldier stopped his assault on Steve's face at those words, his expression so confused, and desolate and angry it made Steve's heart clench in his chest.

The breaking glass underneath the duo halted their repertoire as they plummeted towards the river below, and the last thing Steve saw before he lost consciousness was the white of Bucky's terrified eyes.

xxxxxxxxx

Steve woke slowly, his head heavy and mind blank. The first thing he was able to take in was the sensation of being dragged over hard, damp ground, ungentle hands gripping him tightly under his arms. Then he picked up the sound of laborious breathing, and the wet smell of mildew and rot. Between one moment and the next, his mind cleared enough for him to tense up at his unfamiliar surroundings and then everything happened in a blur of movement.

When Bucky threw him to the ground, because who else would it be, Steve was instantly rolling back to his feet, ready for a fight. He was taken by complete surprise by the burning electric current that suddenly jolted up his spine, lighting up all his nerves in sudden agony.

Steve collapsed at Bucky's feet with a pained groan, body twitching with aftershocks and his vision darkening sporadically.

When he finally came back to himself, Bucky had bound his wrists together behind his back with frayed rope and was making quick work of unbuckling the top of Steve's uniform.

"Bucky," Steve mumbled sluggishly, "stop it, what are you doing?"

His former friend paid him no mind, however, and continued undressing him until he bare to the waist and the sleeves of his outfit were just as sufficient in keeping him immobile as the rope was.

"Bucky-"

"Don't call me that!"

Steve jolted at Bucky's sudden outburst in surprise. The haze that had crept over him due to the electrocution suddenly dissolved, and Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky in contemplation.

"What do you want to call you then?" He asked, voice tentative and soft, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Bucky was unstable at the moment.

Bucky, whose back had been facing Steve, whirled around in apparent rage and held his face in an iron grip.

"I don't want you to call me anything! I want to know who you are!" The desperation in his voice was palpable.

Steve's closed his eyes to escape the manic look in Bucky's eyes.

"I'm your friend," he whispered.

A sharp smack echoed in the concrete room as Bucky's hand made contact with Steve's face in a vicious backhand.

“Don't lie to me!” Bucky roared. “Don't you fucking lie to me!”

Steve could only watch, wary, as Bucky paced across the small, dank cell in agitation. He muttered something to himself over and over again, his gait stilted and agitated, and concentrating, Steve was finally able to decipher the words.

“... the mission complete the mission complete the mission complete the mission...”

Steve grimaced, and carefully tested his bonds, but upon finding no apparent weaknesses, decided to try a different avenue of escape. He cleared his throat to get Bucky's attention.

“What's the mission, Bucky? What are you supposed to do?” He might as well gather as much information as he could, even though it killed him that it was from someone he was once so close to. Steve followed Bucky with his eyes, and straightened to attention when Bucky's movement came to a sudden halt. He waited with baited breath for his ex-friend's answer.

Bucky pivoted and focused black-rimmed eyes on him, his expression hardening almost imperceptibly.

“The mission is to extract information with the use of whatever method necessary.”

Bucky advanced.

xxxxxx

Time blurred in an unending cycle of pain and blood and questions for Steve. Always questions.

“What are SHIELD's plans?” A right hook across the face.

“What do you know about HYDRA?” A vicious kick to the ribs.

“Tell me everything about the Avenger Initiative.” A powerful knee to the face, breaking Steve' nose with a brutal cracking sound and a gush of blood, warmth running down his clammy skin.

Bucky threw him to the ground, pressing his boot down across Steve's windpipe until spots spun across his vision, and a heavy weight settled in his chest, the lack of air a distant concern compared the agony radiating through the rest of his body.

Suddenly, the pressure against his neck was gone and he could breathe again, the rush of cool air into his lungs a dizzying experience after what felt like hours without it. He felt more than saw Bucky crouch over his prone form, what with his eyes closed against the nightmare world around him.

“Why won't you answer me!?” Bucky spit, voice contorted into something rough and demonic.

Steve pried open his heavy eyes, but remained silent, knowing that there was no good answer to give.

“I'll make you talk.” Bucky's eyes glittered from his pale face, twisted in contempt.

Bucky heaved Steve's body from the floor, forcing him to balance balancing precariously on his knees, then dug his fingers cruelly into Steve's hair and bared the vulnerable length of his throat to Bucky's probing gaze.

“I'll make you talk.” Bucky said again, a mad, frothing rage in his gaze upon Steve.

He shoved Steve's head to the ground, until his cheek scraped roughly and uncomfortably over the grimy floor, before forcing the rest of Steve's body flat and straddling his lower back. With Bucky's weight pressing him down into the floor, Steve groaned at the painful pressure it put on his shoulders.

The first cut of the knife was a line of searing heat down his back, his skin parting like butter under the   
callous hunger of the blade. Steve could feel the blood running down his back in thin, scorching rivulets. Line after line was carved in him, going in different directions and wringing an extra burst of agony out of him when they ran back over previous gashes.

It seemed to be forever before Bucky was finished marking him.

“You're going to wear this, and everyday you'll look at it and remember me.”

Steve took notice immediately of Bucky' words and thought they meant that Bucky probably wasn't planning on killing him. Before he could question his inquisitor, however, he was once again yanked to his knees.

“Are you going make it easy on yourself and talk?”

Steve thought rather uncharitably that Bucky could go fuck himself, but didn't speak out loud in case it just incited him to carve him up some more, but he glared at Bucky in defiance.

“Then you leave me no choice,” came the soft reply.

Bucky used Steve's hair as a grip again, tightening one cold, metal hand in it til the point of pain, and the other hand went to his belt, popping the button and pulling down his zipper.

For one painful, frozen second, Steve didn't understand.

But then Bucky slipped his hand into his gaping pants and wrapped it around something that was definitely not another knife yet still a weapon and Steve, for the first time that night, struggled seriously to get away, panic erupting through his mind in desperate waves, and he tried to throw himself away from Bucky.

The knife was back though, and it slid tauntingly against Steve's skin in a caricature of a caress, forcing him to tilt his head back to avoid it sinking into his skin. He froze, barely breathing as Bucky traced his jugular with the point of the blade, smirking at the expression on Steve's face.

“You're going to be still and open your mouth and suck, or I'm going to slice open your throat with this knife and make sweet, sweet music with your vocal chords. Do you understand me?”

Steve couldn't bring himself to nod, his eyes burning at the humiliation and terror being inflicted upon him by who he once called his best friend. His throat felt tight and his stomach a tense ball of nausea and dread.

“I asked if you understood!” Bucky tightened the grip in Steve's hair, jerking his head up, forcing him to meet Bucky's eyes. “Because if you don't, I might be forced to hunt down that flexible little red-headed assassin and question her. So I'm going to ask one more time, do you understand?”

Despite the fact that Steve knew Natalie could very well take care of herself, he felt in an irrational sense of panic at Bucky's intentions towards her and felt himself nodding his head frantically.

“I understand.” He whispered, sneering up at Bucky, wondering where everything went wrong.

Bucky grinned wicked and unrepentant, before reaching into his pants and bearing his cock to the air and Steve's horrified gaze.

It lay swollen and pulsing in Bucky's grip, and it was, at that moment, the most daunting thing Steve ever laid his eyes on.

Bucky pressed the knife into his neck. “I'm waiting.” Steve could hear the warning in his voice.

He closed his eyes for a moment, to gather some sort of strength before leaning forward, entirely aware of the blade following him, allowing the movement, before opening his mouth and closing his lips around the head of Bucky's cock, sucking shallowly.

But that was apparently too slow for Bucky, who used his grip in Steve's hair to force Steve's mouth further down on his cock in one strong motion, thrusting his hips at the same time until his cock hit the back of Steve's throat, choking him.

He held Steve there for one unending second before pulling out and thrusting back in again, starting up a fast, punishing rhythm that forced Steve to choke and gag, desperately pulling in air in the short seconds his throat wasn't stuffed full of cock.

Steve's eyes watered, both from the repeated abuse of his gag reflex and the nature of the act he was being forced to perform against his will. He struggled to keep his balance without the use of his arms, and ended up coughing around Bucky's dick when he thrust particularly hard, groaning in pleasure at the wet heat constricting around him.

“You're doing so well, Captain America.” Bucky's voice was husky with ecstasy and resentment.

His thrusts sped up, fucking Steve's face, and Steve tried to keep up, sucking and swirling his tongue in an effort to get Bucky off as fast as possible. It seemed to be working as his torturer's moans grew louder and his thrusts more forceful as he neared completion. He thrust a handful of times more, before yanking Steve's mouth to the base of his dick, Steve's nose buried in the brown curls there before stilling.

Salty liquid spread across his tongue and soft pallet as Bucky came in several long spurts of warmth.

“Swallow.” Bucky murmured, almost gentle.

Numb now, Steve did.

Bucky let his softening dick slip from Steve's mouth, and he brushed his fingers across Steve's cheeks. They came away wet, and Steve couldn't tell when he had even begun crying at his violation by his friend. He felt Bucky move behind him and begin untying his bound hands, but Steve could barely muster the energy to care.

When Steve's arms fell to his sides limply, he could only stare at the wall in front of him, more tears leaving white streaks down his otherwise dirty face. He crumpled to the ground and curled into himself, one arm wrapping around his stomach protectively. He didn't see Bucky staring at him contemplatively.

He also didn't see the spasm that went through Bucky's body as a mechanical bug, hidden away deep inside his brain, sent a pulsing shock through the millions of cells's inside his head.

And suddenly Bucky remembered.

He remembered who he was. Who he had killed. All of the terrible, dark, soul-destroying thing he had done for HYDRA. He remembered everything.

His eyes fell to Steve's still form, horrified, as tears formed in his own eyes.

“Steve...” He whispered brokenly.

Steve continued to stare unseeing ahead, his voice almost too soft to hear.

“I'm with you til the end of the line.”


End file.
